


Do Virgins Taste Better

by Thea_Bromine



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-29
Updated: 2014-01-29
Packaged: 2018-01-10 11:33:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1159219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thea_Bromine/pseuds/Thea_Bromine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Apparently it's true that dragons eat virgins, or so Giles says. (See also <a href="http://www.thebards.net/music/lyrics/Do_Virgins_Taste_Better.shtml">the song of the same name</a>.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Do Virgins Taste Better

“Dragons,” said Xander, disbelievingly. Giles nodded.

“Dragons?” squeaked Willow, excitedly. Giles nodded.

“Dragons,” said Buffy, disgustedly. Giles nodded.

“But... _dragons_?” That was Xander again. Giles glared.

“ _Yes_ , Xander. Dragons. Not particularly large dragons, but dragons. We have to retrieve the amulet from Amliq, and it’s protected by dragons. The girls can’t go because the amulet will explode if anything female comes within a mile of it on Amliq. It will be stable enough here for us to be able to destroy it but we have to get it away from Amliq first. I can’t do it on my own because it requires two people acting in concert to break the binding that holds it there. That means I need you to come with me.”

“To fight dragons.”

“I, I rather hope we won’t have to fight them. They aren’t particularly smart animals; I’m hoping we can just avoid them.”

“Dragons. Breathing fire?”

“It’s, it’s generally exaggerated in the mythology. I mean, they don’t spout flame like a, a, a...”

“Flamethrower?”

“Well, quite. The range isn’t more than a couple of feet. Six at the outside. And they don’t fly.”

“No?”

“No. Well, no more than a, a flying squirrel flies. They glide from high places sometimes.”

“Right. So not that dangerous, then.”

“Ah. Um. The teeth are... and the claws. And of course, they do crush their prey. And they’re wickedly fast, unfortunately. Forty miles an hour on the flat, easily.”

“Crush... Giles, how big is a dragon?”

He shrugged. “A hundred feet? A really big one might be a hundred and twenty. The wingspan makes them look bigger.” 

“A hundred and twenty _feet_?”

“Well, not the ones on Amliq. They’re very much poor cousins, nothing longer than seventy-five or so. Not big at all.”

Xander rolled his eyes. “No, not so much... They’re just seventy-five feet long, teeth, claws, they can fall on you from a great height and run faster than you can run away. And what about the rest of it? Do they live on heaps of treasure and eat virgins?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, why would they live on heaps of treasure? Uncomfortable, hard to come by and unsuitable for nesting in. They do eat virgins, though; that one actually is true. Still, it won’t affect _us_.”

“Right. One of the many advantages of being a man, of which so far I have identified none.”

“No, nothing to do with that: a dragon will take a male virgin as happily as a female virgin. Fortunately you aren’t one.”

Willow squeaked. “Giles!”

Giles’ turn to roll his eyes. “Willow, Xander has always told me more than I needed to know about his sex life. Even before Anya, I knew he wasn’t a virgin; once Anya started talking...”

“Yes, thank you,” put in Xander hastily. Giles closed his eyes briefly; why did everything always become a debate with these three? Why could they never just take it on trust that he knew what he was doing... well, most of the time, anyway?

“So... when do we do it?”

“Tonight. After midnight. Buffy, I, I’ll call you in the morning.”

She nodded. “’Kay. You need us any more this afternoon?”

“No. Thank you.”

He half hoped that Xander would leave with Buffy and Willow; there was something going on in the young man’s head and Giles had not the first idea of what it might be. Xander had developed a tendency to arrive on Giles’ doorstep unannounced, to stay for hours, talking randomly, to fall into sudden long silences which somehow were even more disturbing than his babble. More than once, Giles had glanced up from what he was doing to find Xander just _looking_ at him, staring at him, and when Giles asked what was wrong, Xander would colour and stammer worse than Giles himself, and...

And there was something _more._ Several times, Xander had started to say something to him, to ask him something, and had... had stopped before he could get properly started. Had... now that Giles actually thought about it, he knew what Xander had done. Xander had _bottled_ it. How odd, Giles thought vaguely, that he knew Xander well enough now to know, not what Xander wanted to say to him – he had no idea at all what that might be, and frankly, given Xander, it might be _anything_ – but that Xander _did_ want to say something. And that every time Xander tried to say it, his nerve deserted him.

And that was not usual. Not usual at all. Xander's courage... Xander denied the possession of any courage at all, and that was a flat lie. Xander would walk to the edge of the precipice, arguing and protesting at every step, and if the Slayer said ‘Jump!’ then Xander would be in the air before the plosive was. Giles sometimes suspected that Xander would jump if he, Giles, gave the command.

He was careful, always, on that account, of what he said to Xander. Xander didn’t know what Giles thought of him, and Giles would be careful to ensure than Xander never did know. There was no need for Xander to have to reconcile his desire to please Giles with what would no doubt be his horror at the discovery that Giles _wanted_ Xander.

And now, Giles wanted Xander to go. Giles needed to prepare himself for the fight and he couldn’t do it with Xander there. Giles needed to find the part of himself which thrived on the adrenaline... He needed to rev himself until his engine roared, and then to allow it to idle, to hang it on the clutch, to find – just – the biting point at which he could run or fight or think or plan, any one of them as easily and as successfully as any of the others. All Watchers did this; some did it through meditation, loosing the chains of the day-to-day world until there was nothing between themselves and their tasks. Others did it differently, not calming themselves but deliberately working themselves up, berserkr style. Giles did something between the two; he had learned that he could find the strength in himself, and then hold it, ready to go, for hours, or occasionally even days. It was the wildness in him, and in his youth he had done it with drugs, and with sex, and with mock fights in the Watchers’ training compound and real fights when the instructors had left. Now, he did it by remembering how it had felt and reconstructing the feeling until he couldn’t tell the recollection from the reality. He no longer did it with drugs, but occasionally he would go to a bar and find it there, in the shape of a fight or a fuck or sometimes both. It would be easier to find the place in his head if Xander were to go, because otherwise he might find himself wanting Xander again, might say something he shouldn’t, might _do_ something he shouldn’t...

“So do virgins taste better?”

His brain skipped. “Better than what?”

“Better than non-virgins. Why do dragons eat virgins? Are virgins nutritionally superior? Do they taste better? Are they, I dunno, tender? Softer skin? Free of trans fats? Low in cholesterol?”

He glared. “I have not,” he enunciated carefully, “the first idea. Nor, frankly, do I care. It is wholly irrelevant to the matter at hand.”

“May be to you.” Xander was fidgeting, almost bouncing on his toes. Giles had a sudden flash of understanding: this was what _Xander_ did. Xander was working himself up too, finding the place that he kept his courage and making it accessible. Why it should involve mindless babbling about virgins, Giles didn’t know, but he could _see_ Xander gather his nerve and...

“But I don’t want to be eaten by a dragon.”

And... down again. “I _told_ you, Xander, it’s not a risk because you’re not...”

“Am in some ways. I know that. You know that. Does the dragon know that?”

“I, I, I, what?”

Xander shrugged expansively. “Never done it with another guy. Does the dragon know that?”  

It was like... he couldn’t find a comparison. Xander's conversation just left him spinning in the dark. “I... don’t know. I don’t think it matters. I’ve never heard that it matters.”

“Not taking the chance,” said Xander, decisively. Decisive? Xander? And why was he unbuttoning his shirt? “Giles? Need some help here.”

“?” said Giles. The shirt hit the floor, Xander kicked off his shoes and unfastened his fly.

“Not worth the risk. You gonna help me here, Giles?” He pushed the jeans down his thighs; he had nothing on underneath.

“!” said Giles, his eyes wide.

“I Do Not Want,” it was Xander's turn to enunciate clearly, “To Be Eaten By A Dragon.”

Right. Very reasonable. He’d always said Xander was smart. “How do you feel about being eaten by an Englishman?”

Xander grinned. “ _Now_ you’re getting with the programme.”

He caught hold of Xander's wrist and towed him up the stairs. “Dragons, virginity, very dangerous. No idea how they judge it. Better make sure we, ah...”

“Cover all the bases?”

“Quite. Yes. Absolutely. Attention to detail, that’s the thing. I’ll need to, to, to, yes, definitely that first. And you’ll be quicker to recover than me, so you can, can, afterwards. And then we’ll go and get that bloody amulet and I’ll tell you in the morning. Although frankly, I doubt it.”

Xander frowned from his position flat on his back and gazing down his body at Giles. “Tell me what?”

Giles wriggled comfortably, and settled himself eye to eye with the impressive erection which appeared to be entirely for his benefit, and which he had every intention of sucking like a lollipop.

“If virgins taste better.”


End file.
